


Music Hath Charms

by servantofclio



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... to soothe the savage golem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Hath Charms

“Why is the painted elf making that abominable noise?” Shale asked.

It was unusual enough for Zevran to find himself directly addressed by the golem that he started as he looked up from cleaning and tending to his daggers. “What noise, my large stone friend?”

“It knows very well what noise it has been making,” Shale said. “With its mouth.”

“Oh, you mean this!” Zevran pressed his lips together and whistled a few notes. He hadn’t even been fully aware of whistling before; the camp had come to seem safe enough that he forgot himself, from time to time. A little sloppy, perhaps, but then, any noise he made was unlikely to be louder than the sound of Alistair bickering with Morrigan or the dog barking or Oghren’s bray of laughter.

“So it did know,” Shale said, dangerously. “Yes, that.”

“Come now, my friend, even your stony heart must be moved by the joy of song!” He whistled a bit of tune— something Leliana had been singing the other day, a pretty trifle.

“My stony heart is not moved by anything, as the painted elf knows.”

“Nothing? Not a jaunty tune?” Zevran whistled a bit of a lively dancing song. “Or perhaps you prefer the sad ballads of our lovely bard?”

Shale grunted. “That sort of noise is marginally preferable. The noise the painted elf makes sounds entirely too much like those… feathered horrors.”

“You believe my whistling sounds like birdsong?” Zevran asked, smiling. “That is rather a compliment, my friend.”

“It should not be flattered,” Shale said. “Rather, it should stop.”

“Now, now.” Daring greatly, Zevran sprang to his feet and patted the golem on its rocky arm. “You know I would never treat you as the birds do, my friend.”

“I should think not,” Shale said. “Unless the painted elf wishes to be crushed.”

Zevran heaved a dramatic sigh. “Alas, I suppose I must forgo the pleasures of music for the sake of your feelings.”

Shale made a noise like stones falling down a hillside. Zevran rather thought that the golem appeared mollified, as much as its expression ever changed.

From the other side of the camp, Leliana’s voice rose in some song, a sweet and melancholy tune. The words appeared to be elvhen; Zevran could not catch more than one in three. After a moment, the Warden’s voice, less trained, less powerful, but no less sweet, joined hers. Zevran waited as the song continued, but Shale said nothing. Zevran cocked an eyebrow. “You have nothing to say to them?”

“Marginally preferable,” Shale said, and returned to its usual post on the edge of camp with heavy strides.


End file.
